"Scandal? What scandal?"
Everyone at the Olympic Committee listening to the call was momentarily stunned.
A scandal had suddenly come out of nowhere, and they knew absolutely nothing about it.
"Well… that's something you'll have to sort out on your own," Bob replied. "Maybe you don't know about it yet, and that's understandable. All I can say is that, in order to avoid any scandal from influencing public opinion—and because one of my partners wants the Olympics to be hosted as successfully as possible—I made this decision."
Kaven asked, "Who is this partner?"
"You should all know him. His name is Takayuki. He's the owner of a game company."
Of course, they knew Takayuki.
He was the person who had originally proposed integrating Japanese pop culture into the Olympics.
After his proposal, the percentage of young people interested in the Olympics jumped from a little over ten percent to more than thirty percent.
And that number was still rising.
Kaven pressed on. "Why would he mention a scandal? What exactly is this scandal?"
"Well… that's something you'll have to ask yourselves," Bob said. "I'm just giving you a hint."
"Alright. Thank you, Mr. Bob. We'll contact Mr. Takayuki ourselves. Then, about the recommendation ranking for this topic—"
"Let's talk about that after you've dealt with the scandal," Bob replied. "Otherwise, I'm still worried it could have a negative impact on you."
His tone made it sound like he was doing everything for their own good.
Kaven felt utterly helpless, but he had no choice but to hang up.
"So what do we do? Should we contact Mr. Takayuki?" someone asked.
"Of course. And preferably right now."
Kaven and the others didn't hesitate. They picked up the phone and dialed the number Takayuki had previously given them.
At this very moment, Takayuki was still waiting in the office of the Olympic Preparatory Committee.
The chairman and directors had already been notified and were on their way.
Meanwhile, Takayuki continued flipping through the documents.
The expense items were all over the place. One of them was even a bill for renting a luxury suite for one of the directors.
A luxury suite rented on a monthly basis, with a monthly rent of nine million yen.
Three hundred thousand yen a day.
Takayuki clicked his tongue, but since it wasn't his money, he didn't bother interfering.
The phone rang again. This time it was an unfamiliar number, though Takayuki could easily guess who it was.
"Hello."
"Hello, is this Mr. Takayuki?" Kaven asked from the other end.
"Yes, this is Takayuki. And you are?"
"My name is Kaven. I'm a standing committee member of the Olympic Committee. I'd like to ask about the situation in Japan. It seems there may be some issues with the Olympic preparations there?"
"There are indeed some issues," Takayuki replied calmly. "But there's one thing in particular that I'm dissatisfied with."
"May I ask what that is?" Kaven asked politely.
"The preparation of the opening and closing ceremonies."
Takayuki then bluntly explained what he had seen to the Olympic Committee representatives.
Funds were being squandered recklessly. Project management was in disarray. If this continued, the Olympics might not only fail to be successful—it could even turn into a disaster.
If anyone else had said this, Kaven would have scoffed.
But these words came from Takayuki.
That gave them a completely different weight.
"In short," Takayuki continued, "I don't care much about the other Olympic events. What I want is to give my players—and the many young people who love anime, games, and Japanese traditional culture—a true feast. That would be hugely beneficial to the Olympics themselves. But if even the opening ceremony can't be done right, those trendy young people will completely lose interest in the Olympics. And then the future of the Olympics may truly be over."
Takayuki's words were somewhat exaggerated.
After all, the modern Olympics had developed for over a hundred years. Even a starving camel was still bigger than a horse—it wouldn't collapse so easily.
But his words did strike a nerve.
The Olympic Committee had originally agreed to introduce modern pop culture precisely to attract young people.
And as Takayuki said, if they did it badly, they might really alienate an entire generation.
Kaven himself had once been young.
Beliefs formed in youth were hard to reverse even in old age. Losing that group meant losing a massive audience forever.
If that happened, this Olympic Committee would go down in history as indirect culprits.
"Yes… Mr. Takayuki, what you've said is indeed very serious," Kaven said solemnly. "We truly didn't expect things to develop this way, and I'm quite disappointed with the Japanese Preparatory Committee as well. What would you like us to do?"
Kaven was no fool.
When Bob had mentioned that his partner, Takayuki, was dissatisfied, Kaven already knew that Bob's lofty excuses were nonsense.
What Bob truly cared about was Takayuki's opinion.
Now that he was speaking with Takayuki directly, Kaven knew this was the key to resolving the issue of suppressed media recommendations.
"It's very simple," Takayuki said. "You support me in leading the opening and closing ceremonies of the Olympics and Paralympics, as well as controlling certain segments during the competitions."
"That's not a big problem," Kaven replied. "But you also know that we're a public-interest organization. Excessive commercialization—especially promoting a single brand—could be…"
Takayuki immediately understood. "Don't worry. I'll only do what's appropriate. I won't promote Gamestar Electronic Entertainment at all. I just want to bring young, trendy content to the players and the audience."
"Alright," Kaven said after a brief pause. "Since you've said that, the Olympic Committee will support you from behind the scenes. But are you certain you'll only intervene in the opening and closing ceremonies and a few minor segments during the events?"
"I'm certain. I have no interest in anything else."
What Takayuki was really saying was that he couldn't be bothered with whatever shady dealings might exist elsewhere.
And even if the Olympic Committee knew that some people on the Japanese side were up to no good, there was little they could do.
This was an unspoken understanding—something that couldn't be openly addressed.
But to keep the Olympics relevant and popular, supporting Gamestar Electronic Entertainment's control over the ceremonies and select segments was something they could manage.
At the very least, the Japanese government would give the Olympic Committee some face.
With the Olympic Committee's backing secured, Takayuki finally felt at ease.
Society was a complex system. Use it well, and it could bring you maximum benefit.
This was Takayuki using that system.
What followed went much more smoothly.
The senior managers of the Japanese Olympic Preparatory Committee personally arrived at the office. They had all been busy with their own work, but Takayuki had forced the issue—if they didn't come, he would go straight to the Prime Minister.
Reluctantly and with some resentment, they showed up.
Then, without any beating around the bush, Takayuki openly declared that he wanted one hundred percent control over all Olympic cultural and promotional content—including the opening and closing ceremonies and cultural showcases during the events.
At first, they sneered.
Your influence is still smaller than the others', Takayuki. How much power could you really have?
But then, right there in the meeting room, representatives from the Olympic Committee personally made a call to the Preparatory Committee.
And in front of everyone, they publicly declared their support for Takayuki, standing firmly behind him.